shall I forget the horrors I felt that night! Let my double danger be a warning to you, my children, to control your savage appetites, and, on no account, to do harm to those creatures, which, like ourselves, are under the protection of man. We cats all have a bad name, for treacherous dispositions, in this respect, and, with shame I must acknowledge, it is but too well merited.

Well, but my breath begins to fail me, and I must hasten to a conclusion. I still lived in the same family, when our present kind mistress, Mrs. Petlove, having lost a favorite tabby, advertised a very handsome price for another that should, as nearly as possible, resemble her dead darling. My owners, tempted by the offer, carried me, for the good lady's inspection, and I had the honor of being preferred to a multitude of rivals. I was immediately settled in the comfortable mansion we now inhabit, and had many favors and indulgences bestowed upon me, such as I had never before experienced. Among these, I reckon one of the principal, that of being allowed to rear all my children, and to see them grow up in peace and plenty. My adventures, here, have been few; for, after the monkey had spitefully bitten off the last joint of my tail, (for which I had the satisfaction to see him soundly corrected,) I kept beyond the length of his chain; and neither the parrot, nor lap-dogs, ever dared to molest me. One of the greatest afflictions I have felt, here, was the stifling of a whole litter of my kittens, by a fat old lady, a friend of my mistress,

who sat down on the chair, where they lay, and never perceived the mischief she was doing, till she rose, though I pulled her clothes, and used all the means in my power, to show my uneasiness. This misfortune my mistress took to heart almost as much as myself, and the lady has never since entered our doors. Indeed, both I and mine have ever been treated here with the utmost kindness; perhaps, with too much; for, to the pampering me with delicacies, together with Mrs. Abigail's frequent washings, I attribute this asthma, which is now putting an end to my life, rather sooner than its natural period. But I know all was meant well; and, with my last breath, I charge you all to show your gratitude to our worthy mistress, by every return in your

power.

And now, my dear children, farewell; we shall, perhaps, meet again in a land, where there are no dogs to worry us, or boys to torment us. Adieu !

Having thus said, Grimalkin became speechless, and presently departed this life, to the great grief of all the family.

THE LITTLE DOG.

A FABLE.

"WHAT shall I do," said a very little dog, one day, to his mother, "to show my gratitude to our

good master, and make myself of some value to him? I cannot draw or carry burdens for him, like the horse; nor give him milk, like the cow; nor lend him my covering, for his clothing, like the sheep; nor produce him eggs, like the poultry; nor catch mice and rats, so well as the cat. I cannot divert him with singing, like the canaries and linnets; nor can I defend him against robbers, like our relation, Towzer. I should not be of use to him, even if I were dead, as the hogs are. I am a poor, insignificant creature, not worth the cost of keeping; and I do not see that I can do a single thing, to entitle me to his regard." So saying, the poor little dog hung down his head, in silent despondency.

"My dear child," replied his mother, "though your abilities are but small, yet a hearty good-will is sufficient to supply all defects. Do but love him, dearly, and prove your love, by all the means in your power, and you will not fail to please

him."

The little dog was comforted with this assurance; and, on his master's approach, ran to him, licked his feet, gambolled before him, and, every now and then, stopped, wagging his tail, and looking up to his master with expressions of the most humble and affectionate attachment. The master observed him. Ha! little Fido, said he, you are an honest, good-natured little fellow !-and stooped down to pat his head. Poor Fido was ready to go out of his wits, with joy.

Fido was now his master's constant compan

ion, in his walks, playing and skipping round him, and amusing him, by a thousand sportive tricks. He took care, however, not to be troublesome, by leaping on him with dirty paws; nor would he follow him into the parlor, unless invited. He also attempted to make himself useful, by a number of little services. He would drive away the sparrows, as they were stealing the chickens' meat; and would run and bark, with the utmost fury, at any strange pigs, or other animals, that offered to come into the yard. He kept the poultry, geese, and pigs, from straying beyond their bounds, and particularly from doing mischief in the garden. He was always ready to alarm Towzer, if there was any suspicious noise about the house, day or night. If his master pulled off his coat in the field, to help his workmen, as he would sometimes do, Fido always sat by it, and would not suffer either man or beast to touch it. By this means, he came to be considered as a very trusty protector of his master's property.

His master was once confined to his bed, with a dangerous illness. Fido fixed himself at the chamber door, and could not be persuaded to leave it, even to take food; and, as soon as his master was so far recovered as to sit up, Fido, being admitted into the room, ran up to him with such marks of excessive joy and affection, as would have melted any heart to behold. This circumstance wonderfully endeared him to his master; and, some time after, he had an oppor

tunity of doing him a very important service. One hot day, after dinner, his master was sleeping in a summerhouse, with Fido by his side. The building was old and crazy; and the dog, who was faithfully watching his master, perceived the walls shake, and pieces of mortar fall from the ceiling. He comprehended the danger, and began barking, to awake his master; and this not sufficing, he jumped up, and gently bit his finger. The master, upon this, started up, and had just time to get out of the door, before the whole building fell down. Fido, who was behind, got hurt by some rubbish, which fell upon him; on which his master had him taken care of, with the utmost tenderness, and ever after acknowledged his obligation to this little animal, as the preserver of his life. Thus his love and fidelity had their full reward.

MORAL. The poorest man may repay his obligations to the richest and greatest, by faithful and affectionate service; the lowest in rank may obtain the favor and regard of the Creator himself, by humble gratitude, and steadfast obedience.